"You mean you wish to stay married wiz one man?"

"Ye-es," Lucia faltered.

"Never no life? Never no fun? Ha! If you was old, fat--zen, perhaps. But young, beautiful! For why was you born if you no wish to leeve?"

"But I do wish to live!" Lucia cried in desperation; and her hands went out in an att.i.tude of supplication.

Lopez appraised her once more. "But when I come along an' show you 'ow you raise 'ell and say no. Ees great honor to be took by Pancho Lopez into Mexico. Like 'ow you say, ze decoration for ze chest," and he indicated the spot on his coat where a war medal might be placed.

Just then, to Lucia's relief, the cook came in, bearing a tray laden with chile con carne, bread and b.u.t.ter, and sugar, and placed it on the table.

His fright was still evident. His hands trembled, his legs shook.

"Ah! Ze food!" Pancho cried. "Good! Put zem zere!" he ordered; and the cook placed the tray closer to him. Then he turned to Lucia Pell. "You shall wait on me," he told her, as though he were conferring the greatest honor upon her.

Angela came close to him, eager again to please him. He merely pushed her to one side, and had eyes only for Lucia. "You!" he said, looking her straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to G.o.d this moment were over. Had he forgotten anything?

"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last.

"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the kitchen.

"_p.r.o.nto_," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why?

You 'fraid from me, perhaps?"

She admitted that she was afraid--a little.

"And why?" he inquired.

"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him.

"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!"

Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind.

"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded.

"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as you, so--" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this wretched man.

"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill."

Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm. He was quick to see her action.

"You need not be afraid," he heartened her. "I shall not 'urt you. That is, not yet. The chile--" she dished some out for him, hurriedly. "So! You are afraid of me because I kill people, eh?" He leaned back, and his lids contracted until his eyes looked wicked and sinister. The spangles on his sleeves trembled like leaves.

"A little," Lucia managed to say.

"You sink it wrong to kill?" Pancho wanted to know, gulping down a great mouthful of chile, and smattering a huge slice of bread with b.u.t.ter. He ate with his knife, like a glutton. He smacked his lips, and wiped them on the sleeve of his coat, where the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons gleamed picturesquely.

"You talk of killing in such a matter-of-fact way," Lucia observed.

"An' why not?" Lopez asked.

The cook brought in the coffee-pot and put it on the table.

"Does life mean as little to you as that?" Lucia asked another question.

This man was an enigma. He was bad through and through. They were as helpless as cattle in his hands.

"Life?" Lopez smiled. "To be 'ere--zat is life. Not to be 'ere--" he gulped down some steaming coffee--"zat is death. Life is a leetle thing--unless it is one's own." He put the big cup down and put in four spoonfuls of sugar, stirred it diligently, and looked around him, the wonder of a child in his face.

"You do kill your prisoners, then?" Lucia brought out.

"Sure!" laughed Pancho.

Could she have heard aright? "You do?" she cried, and her cheeks took on an ashen hue.

"_Ciertamente!_" the bandit stated, as though they were talking of the weather. "You capture ze preesoner. You 'ave no jail to put 'im in. You pack him around wiz you. If you let 'im go, 'e come back to fight you again. So you kill him. Eet is very simple."

"But it seems so cold-blooded!" Lucia said.

"Ah! to you, perhaps! It is ze difference between zose who live in safety and zose who live in danger. In safety you 'ave ze bill to pay. You pay it and you forget it. In danger you 'ave enemy to kill. You kill 'im an' you forget 'im. _Save?_" And another heaping knifeful of the chile con carne went into his mouth.

"It's too horrible!" said Lucia; and she turned away.

"Ees life too horrible?" Pancho wanted to know.

"I never knew life was like that!" she said.

"Because you 'ave never really lived," the bandit explained. "Because you 'ave been always protect by ozzers. I kill only men. And only evil men. And when I kill evil man, it make me very 'appy. For I 'ave did a good deed."

His simple philosophy pleased him.

"But who decides whether a man is good or evil'"

"I do!" answered Lopez, quick as a flash, and wondering how she could have asked so stupid a question.

"Oh, do let me pour some more coffee for you!" Angela begged.

"If you wish," Lopez said, indifferently. It mattered little to him now who waited upon him. His inner man had been partially satisfied. He leaned back in his chair, at peace with all the world. One spurred and booted foot was on the table.

"Oh, thank you!" Angela was all smiles. She was making headway with this evil man. "Thank you so much," she followed up, and, standing sweetly at his left, she poured the brown stuff into his cup. "Lovely weather, isn't it?" she remarked. The cook took the pot from her, and went back to the kitchen with it.

"_Si_," Lopez said. "Sit down. Sit down." Angela thought of course he was speaking to her, and being kind to her because of her girlish attentions.

So she promptly seated herself. "No, not you!" Pancho said roughly, putting six spoons of sugar in this second cup. "You, I mean," indicating Lucia once more. Angela pouted, and turned her back on this bad, bad man. Pancho never even noticed her. The more opulent beauty of Lucia appealed to the sensuous in him. "You," he repeated. "Tell me, senora, 'ave you never been to a free country?"

Lucia was surprised at his question.

"A free country?" she said.

"Yes; like Mexico, for instance."

"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him.

He almost roared his head off. "The United--Bah! Ees the most unfree country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave--slave to law, slave to custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to bed such time. And, _Madre di Dios_, every week you take bath such time!"